


Who Are You, Really?

by RyanTheTwit



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Minecraft, king AU, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTheTwit/pseuds/RyanTheTwit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who, who are you really?<br/>And where are you going?<br/>Well I've got nothing left to prove<br/>Cause I've got nothing left to lose<br/>See me bare my teeth for you<br/>Who, who are you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Are You, Really?

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Geoff, Jack, Gavin, Ray, and Michael are Ryan's knights. 
> 
> Tip: Listen to Who Are You, Really? by Mikky Ekko

There is a sickness in the kingdom, and the king is unwell.

The people can feel it in the air, no matter how hard they try to brush it off and pretend it is nonexistent. An aura of darkness surrounding the castle is evil and unwelcoming, the castle grounds unusually quiet. The silence creeps into their bones and chills them to the core despite the warmth of the summer months. The murmurs of the people hum in the air like wasps, and the hustle and bustle of the streets barely covering up the fact that the people were beginning to question the King’s judgement. There were no words coming from the castle concerning him, so rumors started poisoning the people’s minds from venomous tongues.

“The King is dead,” one whispers, behind their hands and hushed huddles. “The council is in turmoil, despite the calm exterior. The King left no heir- what are they to do?” They nervously chuckle at the thought, and move along quickly, glancing about for any lingering guards. The mere discussion of the non-existent heir was a very touchy subject and left the people chittering.

“I heard that the King gave up the throne,” one sniffed, noses up and glaring at the castle. “Gone mad, he did.” The other people quickly shuffled along their way, casting dangerous looks at the man who spoke so openly about their King. The walls have eyes and ears, and that fear was confirmed when the person was mysteriously missing from their bed the following morning.

The last one was the most popular and gossiped about; the lies that were weaved so tightly confounded the people, and no one knew where one lie started and where another ended. No one knew who started it. The story goes that the King ventured into the Nether, seeking an army that would listen to his whishes and whims and destroy the terrible Dragon King who would turn into a hulking dragon named the Ender Dragon. The King was hungry for power, even though he is thought to be in the highest position, he was left unsatisfied. An unquenched thirst that would only be solves with blood. Something had happened then.

The Nether was a dark and terrible place, a place of despair and loneliness. It is the land between worlds where neither light nor darkness can touch. The Nether is where the most horrible and demented of people go when they are banished from the Overworld- dastardly deeds and inhumane actions. The cries of the Ghasts screech in your ears and drive you to the brink of insanity. Their limp tentacle-like limbs drifting behind them. Pigmen wander the barren land, limping and dead, a golden sword carving lines behind them as they drag it in the dark red dirt where fire burns for eternity and soul sand that seems to pull and drag you down. The crackle of fire hot, the dead creatures feeling no pain as they carelessly walk through the flames. Their moans reverberate off the endless canyons and turn their heads at the prospect of fresh blood. Attack one of them and there will be hundreds more. A hive mind.

The people have said that the portals that were scattered throughout the land had sparked and spit- an unusual occurrence. The violet glow had burst for a moment, a blink of an eye, and then went back to normal. As if nothing had happened. That was when the rumors started.

Even the King’s five guards have kept themselves inside the walls.

In the beginning, the guards were there to stomp down the rumors and reassure the restlessness. Excuses to explain why their King was absent, why open court was closed off, why the portals sparked. The questions left the knights scrambling for answers.

“The King is taking care of outside matters.”

“The King is ill.”

“Ghasts must’ve hit it.”

And the same, overused, “Everything is fine.”

They were simple excuses that calmed the people until the rumors got bad. The knights would get mobbed, food and garbage thrown at them as jeers and insults were screamed to them. Liars and cheats, traitors and deceivers, everything foul was called out. When one of the knights came home with a bloody nose and bruised fists, they withdrew from the outside.

But the spark seemed to have spread something. People are more violent and quick-tempered, armed with snappy remarks and quick comebacks. Fights had to be broken up, money handed over to healer with sticky fingers, and the cells filling up as more people were arrested for crimes.

They started becoming demanding.

“Your majesty!” they cry, their voices high and wailing as they pierce the air. “Are you not our king? Are you not willing to protect and serve the people as they have done for you?” Their shouts rattle the gates. “My king! My king! Answer your people!”

Unbeknownst to them, the portals spark once more, and the frenzy increases. They are shoving and pulling, tugging on hair and clothes, pushing to the front and slamming others into the iron-wrought gate. Their chanting rises in volume and are ignorant to the groans approaching. There is an army approaching on the horizon. There is death.

Only when the first bloodcurdling scream pierces the air, does the crowd turn.

As they wait in anticipation, there is a tall figure leading the army. It is the king. And now, he has an army at his disposal.

The King approaches the crowd, as they see their king for what seems to have been months. He is pale, his eyes dark and sunken in, seeming as though he has not seen the warm sun in years. His cold, blue eyes are colder still, a permanent sneer etched upon his white lips. Scars have blossomed where they have not been before, and he is thin- all sharp edges and high cheekbones.

“Answer the people?” he questions, his armor glinting in the sunlight. “This,” he roars, motioning in a wide sweep to the dead army behind him, “is your answer.” The crowd is deathly quiet. “I have brought forth an army to defend our lands against traitors and expand our borders.” He smiles, as if he had just been crowned once more. “You want me to protect and serve my people?” he asks. There are relieved smiles in the crowd, and some murmur happily to their neighbors. His sincere smile turns wicked. “My people, the same loyal citizens that have openly gossiped about?” He pulls his sword from the sheath, the metal hissing as it scrapes against the diamond. “The same citizens,” he spat, “who have doubted my sanity, my _judgement_ for the good?” Many faces drop, a look of terror flickering across their face like shadows. “You want me to serve the people?” His voice is now a whisper, the sound of silk slipping against one another. “I’ll serve punishment.”

There is a screech in the air, then a blazing heat, and where a crowd once stood, stands an army.

 


End file.
